Sugar Sweet
by BILLYKAPLAN666
Summary: [UPDATED OCT-25] Human AU. .:. Billy's family is struggling to make ends meet until he meets Teddy - a rich kid who seems to be far too generous with his money. .:. Eventual sexual content.
1. Introduction

"I'm an omnivore, mom. I can't eat just vegetables," Joey, Billy's seven-year-old little brother, said after their fifth night with a meat-less dinner. 'Omnivore' had become his favorite word since he learned it in school last week. Billy himself scraped rice along his plate leisurely.

"You can and will survive without meat, Joseph. There is more than enough evidence to prove so."

"I can't wait 'til Monday... they have chicken nuggets at school," Matt (four years older than Joey and five younger than Billy) added dreamily.

Meat was expensive, Billy knew. Rice and beans weren't. Mom made a habit of adding different flavors to change up the meal each day. Today it was lemon.

"Shut up and eat. Be thankful you have anything," Billy muttered quietly.

The rest of dinner was silent, until Rebecca Kaplan assured her sons, at the end of the meal, "We just have to eat like this for a while. Just until things aren't so tight. In a month or two, it'll be much better."

"You've been saying that all year," Billy whispered as he climbed the stairs to his room.

* * *

It was dark. Billy kept it that way for some reason, these days. He could barely make out the outlines of the heroes on his walls - an array of bright blues, reds, and yellows made up the posters in his room, but mere moonlight did not do them justice. He'd been thinking about tearing them down. He was far too old for comic-book superheroes, wasn't he? That's what John Kesler told him nearly every day at school. He was almost seventeen, and he didn't know any boys his age who liked comic books. Come to think of it, he didn't really know any boys his age at all.

The eldest Kaplan turned over in bed, mind concentrating hard to think of a place he could work. He'd already applied and been denied twice for a job at the closest super-store, and Billy supposed it was because they didn't want to bother getting a work permit from his school. He had to be eighteen to work at all the convenience stores within twelve miles (he'd checked) and all the food shops he'd asked assured them they weren't hiring, but he could apply anyway.

Billy almost disliked the minimum wage laws. He'd work hard construction for five dollars an hour - that's how desperate he was.

His mind couldn't help but drift to the thought of 'self-employment'. His fingers felt at his bicep. He'd been working out lately - what if... what if he started fighting? Did people really bet on things like that, or was that just in movies? High school seemed like a gold mine for it. 'Come, watch a gay, comic-book-loving outcast fight his long-time rival!' Billy wondered if 'rival' was an appropriate word for 'bully'.

With racing thoughts, Billy fell asleep hours later with graphic images of his triumph over John Kesler, the super-villain in his life.

* * *

"I thought gay guys dressed better," a familiar voice teased. "Wearing dad's old clothes? What, mom can't even afford to wash them first?"

Billy's jaw tightened, his fist clenched, his walk quickened - but he said nothing.

"I'm talking to you," John said angrily and shoved him from behind, kicking his foot when he walked past him on the ground. Billy, still silent but breathing hard, collected his books with scraped palms over the sidewalk. After a moment, John continued. "What? Got nothin' to say to me, faggot?"

"If I did, I'd say you oughtta come to terms with your sexuality so you can hurry up and apologize to all the boys you've bullied," Billy answered once he was on his feet again, staring right at Kesler - a dangerous move, because John punched him, let him stagger - again dropping his books - then punched him a second time before calling him the usual line of insults and walking away.

There were angry tears in his eyes as Billy set off for the gym.

* * *

The only good thing, Billy thought, about having a rich-kid private school in the middle of inner-city public schools was their supposed desire to 'reach out and improve' life for the more unfortunate youth. All this meant was that they kept their gym open and free for any kids nearby.

The school had been constructed just a year ago and there was an uproar from parents. "They can't fix the roads or pay their medical professionals," (the last one was a bit personal to her, after she'd been laid off and dad had his license revoked - _why_, Billy still didn't know) "but they can build a perfect school in the middle of terrible ones? Why not fix up schools around it?"

Not many of the kids at Billy's school knew about the open gym, and he never bothered to tell anyone. No more than four people were in it at any time, save for the days the prep school kids all used it - and sometimes Billy was even there by himself. As he walked in and absent-mindedly tightened the hand wraps around his knuckles, he noticed that today was, thankfully, one of those days.

Half an hour into mercilessly letting his anger out on the suspended punching bag, his arms were shaking. He could feel the peak of his punches ending - he'd have to stop soon.

"Whoa, these things punch back?" he suddenly heard an unfamiliar voice say.

Billy leaned to the side to peer behind the bag, and saw a very muscular blond boy with an assortment of metal lining his ears - staring at him. He had a slight grin on his face as he leaned against the wall. Billy ignored him and went back to hitting.

After a moment the stranger (who, Billy noticed, was wearing a shirt with the prep school's logo) stepped closer and held the bag - still grinning. Billy stopped.

"I'm trying to-"

"What happened to your eye?" he asked curiously.

"What do you _think_ happened to it?" Billy gave it a firm punch but the boy kept hold on it.

"Well...," he started, and Billy felt eyes glancing him over. His stomach tightened uncomfortably. "Who did it?"

"Just a bully."

"Is that why you're here?"

"Yeah."

He made a noise as if in thought, then said, "Well, you wanna fight me?" It was a gentle question - not a threat, like he'd expect from Kesler.

Billy glanced him over in return - avoiding his face when he realized, through the clearing blur of his anger, that he was almost _ridiculously_ cute. "I mean... don't take this wrong, but... you're... I don't think... well, _you'd crush me_."

White teeth were shown when the prep kid smiled brightly.

"I won't _really_ hit you. 'Least not hard. Just practice. You need it anyway, for this bully of yours."

Billy fell silent and finally lowered his hands, arms still shaking. "Probably done for the day..." he trailed off, pulling at his clinging sweat-soaked shirt.

"Tomorrow then?"

"School kids use it tomorrow."

"Shit, they do? Then, the next day?"

"Sure... sure, yeah," Billy muttered as he made his way to the showers. He watched the blond begin his own training before finally, _safely_ slipping away to get clean.

He was torn between looking forward to wrestling around with that rich kid because he was cute and dreading it _because he was cute_. He knew better than to hope he liked guys, too - so if things 'came up', maybe he'd have another bully, like John Kesler times two. _At least_ two. No - _two and a half_. He could only imagine the money-related insults a rich kid could come up with. And how hard the kid could hit. They couldn't afford a medical bill for a broken jaw...

"I'm Teddy, by the way," he panted as he paused, suspending himself in the air mid-pull-up once he saw Billy stepping from the locker rooms.

Billy glanced his way but only for a second, because he realized that Teddy was both _shirtless_ and _sweaty_.

_He didn't know some of those muscles existed._

"Billy," he murmured, taking his backpack over one shoulder and heading out the door.

"You should use both straps," Teddy called after him. "That's bad for your back."


	2. Hope Found, Hope Lost

**content warning: contains drug use**

* * *

"_What happened to your eye?_" Rebecca Kaplan asked in the sternest motherly voice she could manage.

"Same thing that always does," he huffed, sleepily, while shedding his hoodie and hanging it up by the door. It was nearly dinnertime now. Mom was used to Billy coming home at this time - she knew about the gym, but she didn't know about his bully. She had enough worry in her life, he figured. "What's for dinner?"

"Cabbage soup," she said almost happily as she went back to stirring a steaming pot on the stove.

"Need any help?"

"Mmh... hmm? Oh - no, I got it. Go do your homework. And stop letting those boys practice on you... we can't afford the medical bills."

She'd immediately assumed, after Billy had told her about the free gym, that he'd simply been training hand-to-hand - like _Teddy_ wanted to do. He let her go on thinking what she thought. After all - was it lying if he never corrected her? John Kesler was _his_ business and he intended to keep it that way.

Billy raced up the steps to his room and promptly fell onto his bed. Moments later, a slow hand moved to pushed the blanket that blocked the sunlight from his room away from the window to look outside.

His thoughts returned to that cute blond at the gym. And _God dammit_ was he cute. And outgoing too. It was almost intimidating - all Billy did these days was get punched in the face and take it out on a bag at the gym. Not to mention the fact that said cute boy went to the nicest school in the city and probably had more money in his wallet than the Kaplans did in their back accounts. That might be a deal breaker for him.

Not that Billy excepted to make some relationship out of what would be probably a one-time '_fighting_' thing. _If_ he even went through with it, because he couldn't really see himself _not_ getting all worked up. He'd be _insane_ to go through with it.

He was an increasingly-poor boy with no friends and there was someone that existed who seemed to want him dead.

So what did he have to lose?

* * *

"Hey, you're back," were the first words Billy heard from that boy when he stepped into the gym two days later.

He ducked into the locker room where he took his time changing into his gym clothes and wrapping his knuckles. His heart was fluttering in his chest - with every passing moment, he was closer to fighting with that stupid boy who could easily take him down without effort if he sought to do so. It didn't help that he was already getting... _excited_... at the thought of being all tangled up with a sweaty, panting version of the rich kid. Alright, he could do this - all he had to do was control himself.

As Billy turned the corner he nearly walked right into a hard torso but promptly stopped in his tracks.

"So?" Teddy said eventually, his smile slight but welcoming. He was leaning against the door frame and nearly took up the whole space, so Billy couldn't squeeze past.

Suddenly he was a blushing, nervous mess and looked everywhere but that face. "So... so, what?"

"Wanna practice?"

Billy tried to nod as casually as possible, then followed Teddy out of the locker room.

"How big is he, your bully?" Billy was asked as Teddy took a stance a few feet from him.

"Not as big as you," he answered quietly. He stood still.

"Hope not. You'd be dead." Teddy was grinning at himself and it was only afterwards that Billy noticed the slight southern accent he had.

Billy was gnawing at his lip. It was awkward, just standing there, anticipating a little grappling or _something_.

"Put your hands up - yeah, like that - don't worry about hurtin' me, I can take it. Just tell me if _I_ hurt _you_. Ready?" Softly, Teddy guided Billy out of the awkwardness, but soon more ensued - when Teddy went to push or grab him, Billy did little in retaliation. "C'mon, man. Pretend I'm, uh- what's-his-"

"John Kesler," Billy whispered, heart racing with the little interaction so far.

"Yeah, John Kesler. Pretend I'm John Kesler."

"I can't," he muttered, biting at his lip and trying to hide a grin.

"Why not?"

"You- don't look like him," Billy half-answered. Truth was, Billy thought Teddy was_ far too attractive _to impersonate someone he disliked so much.

Teddy scoffed, as if the answer wasn't good enough. "What's that supposed to mean?" he said, his tone defensive but playful at the same time, and Billy was grateful, because Kaplan certainly wasn't the best man to handle confrontation - especially with someone so strong.

And this wasn't all to say that Billy was weak. No, he was strong too. Teddy was just... _gigantic_. It was almost hard to believe he was around his own age - maybe he used something to get himself that big?

"He's just, uh - I mean, you're - a lot - you know, uh..." Billy trailed off, nervously smiling.

Teddy was grinning curiously, and it was somewhat of a relief. "No. What am I, huh, you little punk?"

"Uh - well, bigger, you know, and - uh, well - he's, you know - you're a lot cuter - _no, I mean_-," Billy quickly flushed and attempted to defuse the situation. But there wasn't one.

The blond's face and ears had gone red and was smiling so greatly, his eyes were glazed with wetness as a result, and he had slightly lowered his arms. "You think I'm _cute_?"

If there was a rock somewhere around to crawl under, Billy would gladly do just that. He was almost lightheaded with embarrassment. What was he supposed to say? Did he even know how to handle a situation like this - where a guy actually responded well to something like that? Truthfully Teddy was the only boy thus far to do so; Billy always just assumed every guy he met was straight, and therefore completely unobtainable.

Maybe Teddy wasn't necessarily gay. A secure straight guy could be flattered by _anyone_ calling them cute, right?

All Billy knew is that his bones had gone cold and his stomach was flipping.

"Well - yeah, I mean - of course. You're, uh... _very_ cute."

"Aw, shit, you got me blushin', man," he replied and covered his cheeks with his hands. The smaller male still wasn't at ease, but he was slightly relieved that he really _was_ receiving it well. Then suddenly, Teddy asked, "You smoke weed? Err- ya wanna smoke _with me_?"

_No, I don't, but yes, I will,_ Billy thought.

* * *

Billy had never been high before - not from smoking pot, anyway. He'd been drunk twice and that was the extent of his adventure into a life 'under the influence', although he was obviously (given the fact that he was currently watching a someone carefully fill a bowl with marijuana that they both intended to smoke) not opposed to it.

Maybe when he had a college tuition tucked away, and his parents were happy and not on the verge of divorce, Billy would _care_ about breaking the law. The slight hesitation he held now was not enough to deter him; he sat in the passenger seat of Teddy's car on a very secluded back-woods dirt road without moving. He simply glanced between the small pipe and the boy who held it.

"Ever done this before?" Teddy asked after many moments of silence.

"Smoke weed?"

Teddy nodded but continued to stare down at his handiwork.

"Nah," Billy answered quietly, then hesitantly added, "Y'know, you didn't strike me as the type."

Very white teeth were suddenly shown as Teddy smiled. Billy did, too - but nervously. "What type am I?" he asked.

"Dunno. Didn't think kids from that school were really into things like that."

"It's like a frat house," Teddy said with a tone of slight annoyance. "You'd be surprised how much alcohol can be hidden in dorms."

At a loss for what to say, Billy only stared as a yellow lighter was retrieved from a tight pocket (Billy had to advert his eyes because he realized, then, how very tight those jeans were on him).

"You want first?" he offered Billy the pipe and lighter.

"Uh- I've never...," he trailed off, beginning of his sentence hanging in the air before Teddy replied.

"All you do is put your lips on it, light it up, and inhale, like you're takin' a deep breath." The smile - an innocent, encouraging smile, as if Billy was a child afraid to use the diving board, or ride his bike without adult hands - that Teddy offered and the way and pushed the two things closer to him was convincing enough for Billy to take them both. "Well, you hold it, I'll light it. Be still."

Once he took the lighter back and flicked it, Billy somewhat nervously put the pipe to his lips and stared at slender fingers in front of his face.

"Try to hold it in as long as you can. Probably won't do it right the first time. Don't worry about it."

Many fits of coughing later, primarily from Billy, and the two had eyes as pink as cotton candy.

* * *

Teddy had convinced Billy (not that he needed much convincing) to venture into the nearby forest with him. He would've been more hesitant to go somewhere secluded with a stranger but there was something about Teddy that seemed trustworthy. Maybe it was because they were the same age, and Teddy was Billy's only (and, really, first) 'friend' - after all, how often did a seventeen year old boy turn into some sort of younger _Patrick Bateman_? Probably more often than he heard about, but Billy wholly doubted he'd become a serial killer's victim today - and had even more doubt that that serial killer would be an attractive blonde boy who kept wanting to wrestle him.

"We never finished fighting," Teddy suddenly interrupted Billy's stare which had been directed at a praying mantis perched halfway up a tree trunk for the last solid two minutes.

"What?" he said after a moment, then looked at his friend, eyes still blinking from the drops he'd been given.

"We never finished," he continued, grinning. "You distracted me with compliments. Pretty dirty trick, but clever. Could probably just outsmart the kid."

Billy's smile surfaced and he had a hard time dismissing it - marijuana was only partially to blame. "I can't -" he started.

"Sure ya can. Gotta get used to doin' things high if I'm gonna smoke you out every day."

_Fuck_, he couldn't stop smiling like an idiot. Well, maybe Billy _was_ an idiot, but he didn't want to look the part. "You, uh- you smoke... _every _day?" he asked casually.

"Yeah," Teddy answered but didn't look up from his nonsensical stick-drawing in the mud beneath their feet. Billy sorely shifted on the log they'd been sitting on. "More for, uh... medical reasons, though. I take breaks sometimes."

The smile dropped from Billy's face. "Medical reasons?" he repeated.

"Sorta - mostly depression. Anxiety attacks." Suddenly Teddy cleared his throat and looked at him, gave him a smile, and straightened up a little. "Nothing, y'know... nothing major."

A sober Billy might refrain from asking questions, but in his current state, he wasn't so shy. Frankly, he was both concerned and curious. "What gives you anxiety?"

"I mean, I got triggers, I guess - things that kinda... _put me in a mood_, that leads to, you know, a panic or whatever." He seemed uneasy talking about it but Billy stared in a way that urged him to talk more. "I mean it's nothin' regular, you don't gotta worry 'bout anything, just like... certain things-..." he trailed off, then continued a moment later as if he needed a moment to think something over. "You don't gotta worry 'bout, y'know, me... freakin' out, or- you doin' somethin' wrong, ya know. 's just things that remind me of... well, my mom - or my old home. But _anyway_..."

Billy stared at him for a moment, thinking both about how he wanted to pry more but how obvious it was that Teddy didn't want to talk about it, and by the time he realized how long it'd been, he flushed of color.

"You're high as fuck," Teddy laughed lightly - a genuine laugh, not the smiles forced by anxiety like just before. "Look at your fuckin' eyes. You lightweight, you only took like one and a half hits."

"Yeah, but I think I'm coming down," Billy said casually, his own grin wide as he rubbed at a heavy eye with his fingers.

"Wanna smoke more?"

He scoffed. "No. I'll pass out."

"Tired?"

"Yeah, a little."

"Happens to the best of us. Let's fight now," Teddy demanded confidently, hitting gently at Billy's chest as he rose and wandered off into a clearing surrounded by an uneven circle of trees. Billy stared, and Teddy's arms rose in waiting. "C'mon. I'll go easy on you."

* * *

Two hours of rough grappling (with Billy using the _knee-between-them_ tactic so Teddy wouldn't be able to feel _anything_ below his waist) and a leisure drive home later, Billy - a muddy, sore, and smiling mess of a giddy teenage boy - was greeted by the sight (and heartbreaking sound) of his mother crying at the dining room table.

"Mom?" he greeted nervously, cautiously - his face turning white and his heart sinking. He forgot about Teddy, he forgot about the promise to hang out with him every day, he forgot about the prospect of standing up to John Kesler.

"Billy," she softly sobbed, crying into a very crumpled tissue. "Your dad left."


	3. Bad Company

His face flushed. His bones went cold. It felt as though there had been a hole carved into his stomach and frozen wind was flowing through it - and that if his heart sank any further, it would drop to the floor completely.

Billy had never experienced such a _physical_ emotional feeling.

"What do you mean 'he left'?" he asked softly and in such a way that made it seem as though he could barely get the words out, or didn't want to say them at all.

His mother answered in a shaky tone. "He's gone to stay with a friend. Moved out." She wiped her tears just in time for another wave of gentle sobbing to overtake her.

He was so _angry_. Betrayed. _Abandoned_. Billy had expected this - he knew it was inevitable that his parents would get divorced, and every day he braced for it. Maybe deep down he was in denial - because what he felt now made him sick. Dizzy. He didn't want to cry; he was trying so hard not to, but he continuously fought to blink away tears.

He dropped his bag thoughtlessly and came to sit by her, hand rubbing at her back until he put his arm around her shoulders. "Mom," he started, with full intent to console her, but was interrupted.

"I _told_ him to leave. All we do is fight. God, I'm such a bad wife. _A shitty mom_."

Regardless of the fact that Billy's mom was no longer employed, she still sported her normal 'psychologist' persona; that was to say, she was all about careful child development and that meant no at-home exposure to things like cursing - hence Billy's increasing worry about her current state. The one place she wasn't logical anymore was with her marriage; when things were better - when they had money - she looked at everything through a doctor's point of view. Now all she felt was guilt and regret pertaining to her husband.

"You're a good mom. People break up all the time, that doesn't make you a bad wife," he countered softly.

She hugged him - or at least one of his arms - and went through a series of sniffling and sobbing, during both of which Billy rubbed her back and told her things from his good-son arsenal (that he loved her, that she was a good mom, that things were going to be okay, and that they always got through everything).

Suddenly she said, "How am I going to tell your brothers?"

"I'll do it, mom," Billy assured softly. "Don't worry. They'll take it easier from me."

* * *

Billy had had the last half hour to come up with a plan of attack - that is, how he would break the news to two young boys (one of whom was reaching puberty) that their father wouldn't be living with them. Although they had lived for the past several months with little money, they still got everything they needed - Joey and Matt had not yet received any kind of shock. Frankly, Billy was the only one of the Kaplan boys who really knew how much debt they were in, or that their parents were on the verge of divorce; his younger brothers had been purposefully sheltered from it all.

On the surface, he hated his father. He supposed his mother would call this an i_nitial reaction_. He was angry enough to call it hatred. Deep down, though, he knew this was probably the best for the family; a toxic all-together household would most likely be more harmful than a separate healthier one. And his mother had assured him that their father wasn't completely out of the picture - contrarily, he had made it a point before he left that he still wanted to see 'his boys' just as much as he did now. _Not that he sees us often_, Billy had thought. _He's always in his room. Doesn't even come out to eat dinner._

He was angry, sure, but he still loved him. Joey and Matt would be angry but they would still love him, too.

"Hey," Billy greeted his tired-looking brothers from the open doorway as the trudged up the porch.

"'Ey, Billy, you wanna play soccer in the backyard?" Joey asked excited as he slid his backpack to his forearm in anticipation to put it down.

"Maybe later. We gotta talk."

Matt's voice was coated in cautiousness - nervousness. "About what?"

* * *

"What kind of father-," Matt started, but bit his lip and cut himself off - Billy supposed it was to keep from crying, because his eyes were glossy.

The two youngest Kaplans sat on the bottom of their shared bunk beds and Billy had been in a chair across from them until Joey burst out in sobs that he felt the need to comfort. He now sat next to him, arm around his littlest brother (who was wetting his shirt with tears) and eyes on the twelve-year-old.

"They've been fighting a lot. I think it's best - they do, too - if they... 'take a break' from each other. They need to breathe."

"You don't get to just 'take a break' from your family," Matt half-yelled, avoiding Billy's gaze for a moment before darting out the room. He didn't want his brothers to see him cry and Billy knew how that felt; regardless of how often his mother would tell them that they should _let their emotions out,_ they were still conditioned (at school, with friends, in public - everywhere but home) to do exactly the opposite. At barely seven years old, that social rule didn't apply so much to Joey.

Again, Billy played comforter. "We're gonna be alright. We'll still see him just as much - maybe even more. Don't cry, Joey. Mom's here, I'm here. We love you."

* * *

For Billy, the rest of the night was filled with cooking bean soup and convincing Matt to come inside from the backyard to eat it, then seeing both his brothers and his mother to bed and making sure they were - at least for the moment - consoled.

He tried to sleep but finally, at two in the morning, caved to the desire to take maybe-a-few-too-many sleeping pills.

When he opened his eyes again, he was greeted by a blaring alarm that he tried to silence but eventually unplugged in frustration. Every movement felt wrong, like it was impossible for him to do anything other than lie in bed and every time he tried to do anything different, his body protested.

Bleary eyes peered at the red light on the alarm clock. **7:18**

"Fuck me," he groaned, rolling out of his bed and bringing himself to stand. In fifteen minutes the first bell would ring, and fifteen minutes later he'd be late to his first class. He already accepted he wouldn't catch much more than the last few minutes of English.

He squinted down at the brightness of his phone's screen.

* * *

6:21 a.m. - Good mornin buddy. Waiting for you in 20

* * *

6:43 a.m. - I'm right down the block

* * *

7:02 a.m. - You dead? Hope you aint dead. Also hope that's not the last thing you get to read before you die

* * *

In the span in a few moments Billy remembered he had met a new friend, that friend was very attractive, and he had promised to meet him before school. Teddy wanted to get high and drive him there, and had apparently waited loyally to do so. As he brought up his other hand to text, he realized he was still covered in dirt from their venture into the woods yesterday. ...Specifically from the part where they were rolling around and roughly grappling each other.

* * *

Gonna be late, just woke up. Don't wait anymore. I'm sorry man.

* * *

Billy had typed it fast, re-typed it twice, then sent it somberly and had put his phone down to turn on the shower when he heard the chime of a received text.

* * *

What if I wanna wait?

* * *

He grinned, but it hurt. He supposed that was the part of him who was grounded to his situation - and the other that very realistically _tore_ at his heart was the one that existed only with his friend. It was almost... carefree. It was such a conflict he felt like he couldn't exist in both planes, but frankly, Teddy seemed like a much greater alternative to anything else in his life.

After several minutes of thought - occupied, too, by staring at his phone and listening to the shower - he replied.

* * *

Still gotta take a shower. I don't wanna make you late. I doubt I'll be fun to hang out with this morning anyway.

* * *

Received almost immediately after, was:

* * *

Why?

* * *

There was more waiting - more thinking - on Billy's end.

* * *

Going through some things. Gonna take a shower now, brb

* * *

To make up for lost time, Billy showered quickly, brushed his teeth even quicker, then found himself slipping on his shoes halfway out the door.

It took fifteen minutes to run to school (it was almost sad how much Billy did that) - which seemed to be his only option, since a ride from Teddy was out the window and his mother had used Billy's car since hers was repossessed. He made a decision to check his phone one last time outside his door.

* * *

Have fun

* * *

Yaknow what, lets skip.

* * *

Nearly in the same moment he read it, a familiar car drove then stopped in the road a few yards away. Billy looked up at the shiny orange paint, then at the grinning driver, and slowly walked toward him.

"Skip?" he repeated wearily.

"Have ya ever? I don't wanna get you in trouble or nothin'," Teddy assured after a moment, then softly commanded: "C'mon, get in."

Billy did. He slid into the smooth leather and pulled his seatbelt on. "Nah, never. Tend to be a little late sometimes... never skipped a whole day though."

"Well, you want to?" Teddy prodded.

From the corner of his vision he could see his friend looking at him, but he only stared casually down at his hands and tried to act as normal as he could. He was an upset, angsty, but consistently _horny_ teenager in the presence of a very attractive boy who happened to be his first friend, making this all an entirely new, rather uncomfortable experience. 'Normal' was increasingly difficult.

And the proposition was almost strange coming from a well-kept blond boy in his school uniform.

"Sure," Billy answered after a deep, tired breath.

"Wanna go to my place?" Teddy asked as he put the car in drive and slowly inched away from the curb.

He repeated, "Sure."

"Wanna make out?"

Billy flushed of color and finally looked over at him. "Wh-... what?"

"Just checkin' to make sure you're listenin'." His white smile was wide, teasing, and boyish.

* * *

It was like something that could only exist in pictures in magazines. Something like 'Modern Millionaires' - and with that thought, Billy thought he might have a good idea for a magazine if it didn't already exist. Teddy's house would be the front page of the first issue.

"Christ, man," he marveled, turning around in the front room, which seemed to be something of a hallway that was incredibly open and big. There were doors spaced on the walls and the center of the wall in front of him was an open kitchen. The floors throughout were smooth oak wood.

"Whaddaya think?" the blond asked softly behind him, so close it made goosebumps raise on his skin.

He turned and watched as Teddy looked around at his own home while slipping his arms out of his sweatshirt. As he pulled it over his head, the shirt underneath stuck to the fabric and gave Billy - for a brief moment - clear, increasingly familiar view of his muscled abdomen. He turned away and gnawed at the inside of his lip.

"It's, uh-... beautiful," he finally answered. "Bills must be crazy."

"S'all paid off. And I'm only one man, I don't do too much damage."

The use of the word 'man' made him smile for some reason. Billy had spent so long thinking of himself only as a boy, but his self-reflection was slowly changing particularly in the last twenty-four hours. Teddy already thought of himself as grown.

"Anyone else live here?" he asked softly, following Teddy's lead in taking off his shoes.

Teddy answered while walking toward the kitchen, Billy in his footsteps. "Naw. Just me. You hungry?"

"Sure."

"It's always 'sure' with you, eh?"

He grinned. "Sure."

"Want some wine?"

Billy turned from looking around the kitchen to see him holding a bottle with a very serious expression on his face. He rubbed at his eye with the base of his palm, realized how terrible he felt (physically from the sleeping pills, emotionally from - well, a plethora of things) and then said: "Sure."

He had never been a 'bad' boy - getting high, getting drunk, skipping school - but, well, _what was the point?_

"I'd love some, yeah."


End file.
